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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29870043">Interlude</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_Our_Sweetest_Hours/pseuds/All_Our_Sweetest_Hours'>All_Our_Sweetest_Hours</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Wolves Will Come Again [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Incest</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:47:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,235</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29870043</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_Our_Sweetest_Hours/pseuds/All_Our_Sweetest_Hours</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>All this talk about family and legacy has Sansa reminiscing about her own.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jon Snow/Sansa Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Wolves Will Come Again [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/507258</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Interlude</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I was going to try and work this into the next part of the series but it ended up settling in a really odd middle ground where it felt a little too jarring to include at the end of the last part or at the beginning of the next. It also felt a little too much like a cliffhanger considering I'm not writing to any particular schedule so it's serving its destiny as a short interlude instead.</p>
<p>As always, feedback is kindly received if it is kindly given. I'm trying to line this up with Power so if you notice anything contradictory or out of continuity then please let me know so I can pick it up in editing. </p>
<p>I am happy for this work to be translated as long as all relevant copyrights and protections of the original creators are adhered to. I'd also appreciate a quick comment of where so I can check it out. Thank you.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sansa refuses to rise from her bed the next morning. She refuses her ladies calls to breakfast or to dine when Brienne brings her a platter of meat and bread at midday.</p>
<p>“Are you okay, my Lady?” Her sworn sword asks.</p>
<p>“No, I am not.”</p>
<p>She feels utterly miserable and ill from the unfairness of it all and she hopes that Jon is suffering too. She hopes he is suffering even more.</p>
<p>“Did they speak of it further, after I had left?” she asks, fear still gnawing at her gut. She will not leave Winterfell, not ever. If she has to wrench the throne from underneath Jon himself she will do it.</p>
<p>“No, My Lady. The King demanded the matter be dropped and never raised again. They began discussing household expenses instead.”</p>
<p>“Good,” Sansa snipes. “And you tell Jon next time you see him that if he tries to force me to wed some poncy, noble rake to get rid of me, I will throw myself over the wall and come back as a Wight to chew off his face. That is an order." 

</p><p>Brienne stalls momentarily to see if she is joking and seems discomforted when she finds that Sansa is as serious as death. “Yes, my Lady. I will do so, but perhaps you should get some rest.”</p>
<p>Sansa has been dozing all morning and for the afternoon so far but more sleep seems very appealing, so she dismisses Brienne and settles back down into the comfort of her furs.</p>
<p>She is woken later by three loud knocks at her chamber door. She considers feigning sleep or absence but the knocks are as ever familiar and there is a part of her that has been waiting for this confrontation.</p>
<p>“Enter.” 

</p><p>Jon slips in quietly and closes the door behind him as such. She can only wonder who his consideration is aimed at for, clearly, he disregards her feelings far too easily.</p>
<p>“I ran into Lady Brienne on my way to the training yard.” He says, somewhat sheepish. He searches her face for any evidence that he is the target of some great jape but Sansa forces ice into her stare.</p>
<p>“Are you okay?” He asks.</p>
<p>“Yes, I’ve had a very pleasant day, thank you.” Her words are cold and they cause him to flinch somewhat. His eyes narrow and the side of his mouth draws up.</p>
<p>“Brienne says you have not left your rooms this morning, not even to dine.”</p>
<p>He needn’t state it out loud. It is perfectly clear from the sight of Sansa that she hasn’t bothered to rise.</p>
<p>She can only imagine how she looks to him; hair in disarray, night rail creased and crumpled. If he was to come closer, he would probably smell the staleness of her body and breath but she cannot bring herself to care. He deserves to suffer such inelegant punishment, and if he already thinks her repulsive and rotten, then where would be the harm in proving his nasty thoughts true?</p>
<p>That is until he actually does come to sit beside her and she begins to second guess her own confidence. She pulls back a little and he moves back also to honour her desire for space but he does not move entirely.</p>
<p>“You should perhaps let me rise and wash before we have this discussion,” she says, her insecurities beginning to take root. She could kick herself for letting her own anger colour her sense of propriety.</p>
<p>“I don’t care if you are washed and dressed, Sansa. I don’t care if you wish to linger in bed all day. I only care that you are okay.” He smooths a sweaty strand of hair from her forehead and she wonders if it feels as disgusting and slick with grime as it does resting on her own skin.</p>
<p>“Talk to me,” he says. “As we promised we would.” He leans forward slightly, his dark eyes full of concern. She knows he has come from the yard for he smells like wood smoke…ever familiar.</p>
<p>Grief begins to stir in her belly as the unfairness of it all hits home. They have only just found each other, and not again but for the first time, for their childhood relations have little to reflect happily upon. She had been trying so hard to discover him as her true brother and compensate for the cruelty and disregard she showed him as children only for that swine, Ser Davos, to suddenly bring up Southern perversions.</p>
<p>She is angered more that she cannot truly blame him. It is Ser Davos’ duty to find solutions and he has offered up the neatest one. He does not know that Sansa only wants a brother; she wants the safety she felt as a child when Robb, who always seemed so much older than her though he wasn’t, would fight off imaginary shadows for her.</p>
<p>Her shadows are no longer imaginary.</p>
<p>Her father is lost to her. Robb is lost to her. Jon is the only thing left that makes her feel safe. Brothers and fathers are safe.</p>
<p>“Do you believe what Lord Reed says?” She asks.</p>
<p>“I do,” Jon says. “Father trusted him.”</p>
<p>“You were horrible to me over Ser Davos’ suggestion,” she says, suddenly steeled by her angry recollections. “The look you gave me, like it was my fault.”</p>
<p>Jon runs a hand over his face and sighs. “That look was not for you, Sansa. I was bothered by it, true, but perhaps I could have been more careful with guarding my feelings. I was more worried for you, though; how you would feel, if it would scare you. I don’t want you to be afraid of me, not ever. I swore to you that you would never be forced to wed again and I meant it, especially not to me, a man who was raised as your brother.”</p>
<p>The disgust finds his face again and Sansa feels a little foolish. Maybe she did allow her fears to run away with her for Jon has protected her this far.</p>
<p>“Why would he even think to bring it up?” She should not be truly angry at Ser Davos for doing his duties but she is. With just a few filthy words he has injected poison into her relationship with Jon. “How could they even think that we could---ever find anything pleasant in such a thing?”</p>
<p>Jon settles his dark gaze on her and is quiet for a moment. “I doubt they think of pleasantries, Sansa, but pay it no mind. I’ve told them all that there’ll be no more discussion on the matter.”</p>
<p>......</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa is washed and dressed by the time her next visitor arrives. She is alerted by a small commotion outside her door. Brienne is fending somebody off with vigour and that alone hints at who the disturber might be.</p>
<p>She stands and greets them both outside her chambers. “It’s okay, Lady Brienne. Lord Baelish, what can I do for you?”</p>
<p>His leer suggests a great many terrible things but his voice is full of courtesy when he speaks. “I’ve come to steal you away, my Lady. You promised me a walk, after all.”</p>
<p>“That I did. Let me fetch my cloak.”</p>
<p>He leads her on his arm through the Godswood, making mindless chatter about Winterfell and rumours they have heard of the approaching army from beyond the Wall. Sansa doesn’t like to think on it too much. To this day, Old Nan’s stories still send a shiver down her spine but it is the thought of Jon, who has taken the mantle upon himself of leader of the army that will oppose them, fighting them that frightens her the most. She clings to Tormund’s stories of how they bravely fought their way out of Hardhome in order to see her through her fears.</p>
<p>“I must admit, I was surprised to find you alone, Sansa. You have become very close to your brother,”</p>
<p>“Half-brother,” she responds. The unpleasantness of Ser Davos’s proposal still lingers setting a filthy cast over the lies she tells herself about how it’s not too late for her to build the relationship between her and Jon that he had with Arya. She notices how Petyr’s eyes narrow in thought at the correction and scolds herself for not thinking first. “But yes, we are the only ones of our family left. We need each other,”</p>
<p>She hopes that it’s enough to dampen whatever plans Petyr might think worth crafting from her careless comment. Though it might seem small and unimportant to most, she knows that Littlefinger will latch onto it like a babe at its mother’s teat, and milk it for everything it is worth.</p>
<p>She spots Lord Reed who is reading under the frozen maples. Sansa knows that Lord Reed will not stay with them much longer, that he desires his return to Greywater Watch, but she appreciates that he has remained so long already. Jon has taken to sharing supper with him and asking what he knows of his true parents and her father’s promise. Sometimes she joins them, learning each time that history is really nothing more than stories crafted by those who survive long enough to tell them.</p>
<p>Lord Reed knew little of Jon’s true father personally, but he had heard plenty of tales told about Rhaegar Targaryen; the silver haired prince who was beloved by the people, known for his skill in music and swordplay. She smiles when Lord Reed talks of how he was prone to melancholy and solemn thoughts and teases Jon when they find out that Rhaegar favoured books and romantic words, for Jon is not naturally inclined to either.</p>
<p>There are things that hold little comfort for Jon though; when he remembers that his father already had a wife and two children, slain while Rhaegar courted Lyanna, and when he recalls how his father snubbed his true wife in public in order to crown his mistress with blue roses.</p>
<p>These are the things that offer comfort to Sansa, the proof that Jon still has Ned Stark’s honour, and Lord Reed’s stories to her of how her Father adored her own Mother, how it broke his heart that he could not share his secret with her for fear of her safety and that of his children, provide another comfort yet.</p>
<p>Petyr pulls at her arm and she realises that she has let her thoughts overtake her. She hopes that she didn’t give too much away in her reverie.</p>
<p>“It’s not healthy to need one person so much,” he says and his patronising tone ruffles Sansa’s feathers.</p>
<p>“Maybe it isn’t,” she allows, “but sometimes it’s hard to deny what one needs.” It isn’t until she speaks the words that she realises how utterly inappropriate they sound, however true they may be and she could curse Ser Davos to hell for making her question even the most mundane pleasantries. Petyr will be able to twist her carelessness to his own ends if she doesn’t watch herself.</p>
<p>He launches into his own recollections, of a woman who once told him the same thing, and it isn’t until he mentions her name that she realises that he is baiting her.</p>
<p>“Cersei Lannister.”</p>
<p>The name is like cold water down her back and she is reminded of Petyr’s talent for timing, whether he is aware of it or not. It is not disgust she feels but fear as she realises the comparisons that Petyr is trying to make.</p>
<p>“Jon and I are not Lannisters,” she tells him while her mind racks over what would make him think so. That her mind treacherously thinks, <em>we are only cousins</em>, as a defense is something she will not allow herself to dwell on. Sansa will not be unwittingly baited by Littlefinger, for she has learned, through trial by fire, never to give up her aims. If she wishes for herself and Jon to be as close as he and Arya were then it will be so.</p>
<p>Yet it is true that she and Jon have already become close, in their own way. Perhaps they are closer than normal but nothing of their lives has been normal since the day they both left Winterfell. He is the only one left to her and if she wished to spend every moment she had with him then what would be the harm in that? She has learned already how short life can be, how each second is too precious to let it go to waste.</p>
<p>Nothing haunts Sansa like wasted time; the time she could have spent playing with Arya or watching Rickon grow up or being nicer to Jon. Even her precious Lady, whose fur she could have brushed more or let sneak into her bed though it would have infuriated Mother.</p>
<p>It is sometimes an effort to favour the moments they had over the moments that could have been.</p>
<p>The time she spends with Jon makes her happy, makes her laugh, makes her yell, makes her cry. It makes her feel awake and alive after a long time spent feeling numb and already dead. Petyr Baelish is a true snake for trying to take that from her, but she accepts his liar’s apologies and takes his arm when he offers it. She will not let him have it, not any of it, even if it means striking first.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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